for speech

7/31/2019 For Speech

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POETRY

Class A100 A Serious Poetry, Kindergarten - Non-competitive

MY DOG - Bernice Aylen

When thunder splits the skyAnd lightening quivers at the window

My dog crawls behind the sofa.

He covers his ears with his paws

and whimpers.

Im not really afraidBut my dog needs company.

So I crawl in beside himAnd cuddle upClose.

Class A100 B Serious Poetry, Kindergarten - Non-competitive

O EARTH Chief Dan George

O earth

for the strength

in my heartI thank thee.

O cloudfor the blood

in my body

I thank thee.

O fire

for the shine

in my eyesI thank thee.

O sunfor the life

you gave to me

I thank thee.


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Class A100 D Humorous Poetry, Kindergarten - Non-competitive

UPSIDE DOWN Aileen Fisher

Its funny how beetlesand creatures like that

can walk upside downas well as walk flat:

They crawl on a ceilingand climb on a wall

without any practice

or trouble at all,

While I have been trying

for a year (maybe more)and still I cant standwith my head on the floor.

Class A100 E Humorous Poetry, Kindergarten - Non-competitive

THE ALPHABET MONSTER - Robert Heidbreder

Im the Alphabet Monster

And nothing tastes better

To the Alphabet MonsterThan eating a letter.

A J and an A

And a C and a KAnd the million more letters

I munch every day.

Im hungry now.

What shall I do?

I think Ill eat

a Yan O

and a U.

That means. . .YOU!


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Class A101 A Serious Poetry, Grade 1 - Non-competitive

GO WIND - Lillian Moore

Go wind, blowPush wind, swoosh

Shake thingstake things

make things fly.

Go wind, blow

Push things, wheee.

No, wind, no

Not me not me.

Class A101 B Serious Poetry, Grade 1 - Non-competitive

HOSE Valerie Worth

The hose

Can squeeze

Water toA silver rod

That digs

Hard holesIn the mud,

Or, muzzledTighter by

The nozzle,

Can rainChill diamond

Chains

Across the yard,

Or, fanned

Out fine,Can hang

A silk

RainbowHalo

Over soft fog.


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Class A101 D Humorous Poetry, Grade 1 - Non-competitive

DANCING PANTS Shel Silverstein

And now for the Dancing Pants,

Doing their fabulous dance,From the seat to the pleat

They will bounce to the beat,With no legs inside them

And no feet beneath.

Theyll whirl, and twirl, and jiggle and prance,So just start the music

And give them a chance

Lets have a big hand for the wonderful, marvellous

Super sensational, utterly fabulous,Talented Dancing Pants!

Class A101 E Humorous Poetry, Grade 1 - Non-competitive

I SPEAK, I SAY, I TALK Arnold L. Shapiro

Cats purr.

Lions roar.

Owls hoot.Bears snore.

Crickets creak.

Mice squeak.Sheep baa.

But I SPEAK!

Monkeys chatter.

Cows moo.

Ducks quack.Doves coo.

Pigs squeal.

Horses neigh.

Chickens cluck.But I SAY!

Flies hum.

Dogs growl.Bats screech.

Coyotes howl.

Frogs croak.Parrots squawk.

Bees buzz.

But I TALK!


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Class A102 A Serious Poetry, Grade 2

NIGHTMARE - Siv Widerberg

I never say his name aloud

and dont tell anybodyI always close all the drawers

and look behind the door before I go to bedI cross my toes and count to eight

and turn the pillow over three times

Still he comes sometimesone two three

like a shot

glaring at me with his eyes,

grating with his nailsand sneering his big sneer

the Scratch Man

Oh-oh, now I said his name!

Mama, I cant sleep!

Class A102 B Serious Poetry, Grade 2

SEASIDE - Shirley Hughes

Sand in the sandwiches,

Sand in the tea,Flat, wet sand running

Down to the sea.

Pools full of seaweed,Shells and stones,

Damp bathing suits

And ice-cream cones.

Waves pouring in

to a sand-castle moat.Man the defences!

Now were afloat!

Waters for splashing,Sand is for play,

A day by the sea

Is the best kind of day.


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Class A102 D Humorous Poetry, Grade 2

THE WORM - Ralph Bergengren

When the earth is turned in spring

The worms are fat as anything.

And birds come flying all aroundTo eat the worms right off the ground.

They like worms just as much as ILike bread and milk and apple pie.

And once, when I was very young,

I put a worm right on my tongue.

I didnt like the taste a bit,And so I didnt swallow it.

But oh, it makes my Mother squirm

Because she thinks I ate that worm!

Class A102 E Humorous Poetry, Grade 2

AT THE BEACH - John Ciardi

-- Johnny, Johnny, let go of that crab!You have only ten fingers, you know:

If you hold it that way, it is certain to grab

At least one or two of them. Please, let go!

--Thank you, Daddy, for teaching not scolding,

But theres one thing I think you should know:I believe its the crab that is doing the holding

I let go OUCH ten minutes ago!


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SHADOW DANCE - Ivy O. Eastwick

O Shadow,

Dear Shadow,Come, Shadow,

And dance!On the wall

In the firelight

Let both ofUs prance!

I raise my

Arms, thus!

And you raiseYour arms, so!

And dancing

And leapingAnd laughing

We go!From the wall

To the ceiling,

From ceilingTo wall,

Just you and

I, Shadow,

And none elseAt all.


PEGASUS Eleanor Farjeon

He could not be captured,

He could not be bought,

His running was rhythm,His standing was thought;

With one eye on sorrow

And one eye on mirthHe galloped in heaven

And gambolled on earth

And only the poet

With wings to his brain

Can mount him and ride himWithout any rein,

The stallion of heaven,

The steed of the skies,

The horse of the singerWho sings as he flies.


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WITCH GOES SHOPPING - Lilian Moore

Witch rides off

Upon her broomFinds a space

To park it.Takes a shiny shopping cart

Into the supermarket.

Smacks her lips and readsThe list of things she needs:

Six bats wings

Worms in brineEars of toads

Eight or nine.Slugs and bugsSnake skins dried

Buzzard innards

Pickled, fried.

Witch takes herself

From shelf to shelfCackling all the while.

Up and down and up and down andIn and out each aisle.

Out comes cans and cartons

Tumbling to the floor.This, says Witch, now all a-twitch,

Is a crazy store.

I CANT FIND A SINGLE THINGI AM LOOKING FOR!


SPAGHETTI - Frank Flynn

A plate heaped highwith spaghetti

all covered with tomato sauce

is just about my favourite meal.It looks just like a gigantic heap of:

steaming

tangledmixed

up

twizzled

twistedwound

up

woozled

WORMS!

I like picking them upone at a time;

swallowing them slowly

head first,until the tail flips

across my cheek

before finally wrigglingdown my throat.

But best of all,

when Ive finished eating

I go and look in a mirrorbecause the tomato sauce

smeared around my mouth

makes me look like a clown

.


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WHAT IS RED? Mary ONeill

Red is a sunset

Blazing and bright.Red is feeling brave

With all your might.Red is a sunburn

Spot on your nose.

Sometimes redIs a red, red rose.

Red squiggles out

When you cut your hand.

Red is a brick andThe sound of a band.

Red is a hotnessYou get insideWhen youre embarrassed

And want to hide.

Firecracker, fire-engineFire-flicker red

And when youre angry

Red runs through your head.Red is an Indian,

A valentine heart,The trimming on

A circus cart.

Red is a lipstick,Red is a shout,

Red is a signal

That says: Watch out!

Red is a great bigRubber ball.

Red is the giant-estColour of all.Red is a show-off

No doubt about it

But can you imagineLiving without it?


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MA AND GOD - Shel Silverstein

God gave us fingers - Ma says, Use your fork.

God gave us voices - Ma says, Dont scream.

Ma says eat broccoli, cereal and carrots.But God gave us tasteys for maple ice cream.

God gave us fingers - Ma says, Use your hanky,

God gave us puddles - Ma says, Dont splash.Ma says, Be quiet, your father is sleeping.

But God gave us garbage can covers to crash.

God gave us fingers - Ma says, Put your gloves on.

God gave us raindrops - Ma says, Dont get wet.

Ma says be careful, and dont get too near to

Those strange lovely dogs that God gave us to pet.

God gave us fingers - Ma says, Go wash em.

But God gave us coal bins and nice dirty bodies.And I ain't too smart, but there's one thing for certain--

Either Mas wrong or else God is.


WISHES Author Unknown

Said the first little chicken

With a queer little squirm,I wish I could find

A fat little worm.

Said the second little chicken

With an odd little shrug,

I wish I could findA fat little slug .

Said the third little chicken

With a sharp little squeal,I wish I could find

Some nice yellow meal!

Said the fourth little chicken

With a small sigh of grief,I wish I could find

A little green leaf.

Said the fifth little chicken

With a faint little moan,

I wish I could findA small gravel stone.

Now see here, said their mother

From the green garden patch.If you want any breakfast,

Just come here and SCRATCH!


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CAT - Eleanor Farjeon

Cat!

Scat!

After her, after her,Sleeky flattererSpitfire chatterer,

Scatter her, scatter her,

Off her mat!Wuff!

Wuff!

Treat her rough!Git her, git her! Whiskery spitter!

Catch her, catch her

Green-eyed scratcher!

SlatherySlithery

Hisser,

Dont miss her!

Run till youre dithery

Hithery

ThitheryPfitss! Pfitts!How she spits!

Spitch! Spatch!

Cant she scratch!Scritching the bark

Of the sycamore-tree

Shes reached her arkAnds hissing at me

Pfitss! Pfitts!

Wuff! Wuff!

Scat,Cat!

Thats

That!


THE LION Conrad Aiken

The lion is a lordly thing

and right of the beasts called King

o yes indeed the King of Beastsjust so its not on us he feasts

those golden eyes

how piercing wisethose powerful paws

those cutting claws

and o those might jawsthese are enough and more

even without a roar

to give us pause.

Those claws can rip a plank rightthrough

those jaws can chew

a bone in two

he is fearful sight

by day or night

of might.But lets remember too

he has beauty unsurpassed

see by the moon his shadow castupon a desert dune

or silhouetted on the moon

those sinewy shoulders and that manewhile thrice he roars

and roars again

proclaiming far and near

to norths to souths to wests to eastsLook and fear

your King is here

I am the King of Beasts!


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MOSQUITO - J. Patrick Lewis

I was climbing up the sliding board

When suddenly I felt

A Mosquito bite my bottom

And it raised a big red welt.So I said to that Mosquito,

I'm sure you wouldn't mindIf I took a pair of tweezers

And I tweezered your behind?

He shriveled up his body,He shuffled to his feet.

He said, Im awfully sorry

But a fellow's got to eat!There are Mosquito manners!

And I must have just forgot em.I swear Ill never never NEVERBite another bottom.

But a minute later Archie Hill

And Buck and Theo Brown

Were horsing on the monkey bars,

Hanging upside down.They must have looked delicious

From a skeeters point of viewCause he bit em on the bottoms -

Archie, Buck and Theo, too!

You could hear em going HOLY - !You could hear em going WHACK!

You could hear em cuss and holler,

Going SMACK - SMACK -SMACK!

A Mosquitos awful sneaky,A Mosquitos mighty sly,

But I never never NEVERThought a skeeterd tell a lie!


CHORES Gordon Korman

When youre tired from doing your schoolwork,And theres something great on the TV,

They cant bear to see that youre idle,

They call out, Please come and help me.Then they give you a carrot, and tell you to grate it.

I hate it!

Youre about to go out to play baseball,Youre putting your cap on your head,

They pull you back in through the doorway,

And show you your nice unmade bed.Youll soon be back in it, but they wont debate it.

I hate it!

Youre standing and drying the dishes,Youve swept the garage out today,

You figure youre well off the hook now,

They pat your sore back, and they say,Were moving the piano; please go in and crate it.

I hate it!


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FOUL SHOT - Edwin A. Hoey

With two 60s stuck on the scoreboard

And two seconds hanging on the clock,The solemn boy in the centre of eyes,

Squeezed by silence,Seeks out the line with his feet,

Soothes his hands along his uniform,

Gently drums the ball against the floor,Then measures the waiting net,

Raises the ball on his right hand,

Balances it with his left,

Calms it with fingertips,Breathes,

Crouches,Waits,And then through a stretching of stillness,

Nudges it upward.

The ball

Slides up and out,

Lands,

Leans,Wobbles,

Wavers,

Hesitates,Exasperates,

Plays it coy

Until every face begs with unsounding screams -

And then

And then

And then

Right before ROAR - UPDives down and through.


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SPAGHETTI! SPAGHETTI! - Jack Prelutsky

Spaghetti! spaghetti!

Youre wonderful stuff,I love you spaghetti,

I cant get enough.Youre covered with sauce

and youre sprinkled with cheese,

spaghetti! spaghetti!Oh, give me some please.

Spaghetti! spaghetti!

Piled high in a mound,you wiggle, you wriggle,

you squiggle around.Theres slurpy spaghettiall over my plate,

spaghetti! spaghetti!

I think you are great.

Spaghetti! spaghetti!I love you a lot,

Youre slishy, youre sloshy,delicious and hot.

I gobble you down

oh, I cant get enough,spaghetti! spaghetti!

Youre wonderful stuff.


ITS ONLY A TREE - Bernice and Gordon Korman

Its only a tree, and an ugly one, too,

And the fact is, it has to come down.It blocks out the sun for each house on the street.

Theres been a complaint from the town.

When Mom put up the tire swingShe checked the branch like anything,

Made sure our feet could reach the slope,

And then forgot to test the rope.So when it broke, poor Mallory

Rolled right clear down to Highway 3.

The bus she almost hit head-on

Swerved right and jumped up on our lawn.It sheared the hydrant off its post--

I think thats when I laughed the most--

The water shot up thirty feetAnd hit the wires. It was neat.

Knocked out the electricity.

It was a special day for me.Ive got to save that tree!


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I SHALL WAIT AND WAIT - Alootook Ipellie

As I stand alone on the middle of the ice,the sky above gets darker by the minute.

The seal has not yet come.It must be somewhere out there where I cannot see it.It must be playing in the water below the ice,

or searching for food as I am doing now.

He has his life too, as I do.

I came here to bring food to my family,

so it is most important I stay and wait.

Wait till the seal comes up to the hole below me,A hole that is filled with salted water.

Food is waiting there.

My children are waiting for me too.

Waiting to be fed from the seal that has not come.

The long wait is worth every single length of time.I shall wait until the seal arrives to breathe for life.

Then I shall push my spear down into the hole

as hard as I can and let the blood appear.

Then I shall pull the seal out, smiling with the wonderfulfeeling that food is on its way to my family;

to my wife, to my children.

They are still waiting for the moment

when fresh meat will touch their tongues

and visit their tummies,when they can enjoy the taste of the seal

that hasnt made an appearance yet through the hole below.

I shall wait until it comes.


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THE TOUCH OF THE MASTERS HAND Myra B. Welch

Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer

Thought it scarcely worth his while

To waste much time on the old violin,But held it up with a smile.

What am I bidden, good folks;he cried,

Wholl start the bidding for me?A dollar, a dollar; then, two! Only two?

Two dollars, and wholl make it three?

Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;

Going for three. . . But no,From the room, far back, a grey-haired man

Came forward and picked up the bow;

Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,

And tightening the loose strings,He played a melody pure and sweet

As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,

With a voice that was quiet and low,Said: What am I bid for the old violin?

And he held it up with the bow.

A thousand dollars, and wholl make it two?

Two thousand! And wholl make it three?Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice;

And going and gone, said he.The people cheered, but some of them cried,We do not quite understand

What changed its worth? Swift came the reply:

The touch of a masters hand.

And many a man with life out of tune,

And battered and scarred with sin,

Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,Much like the old violin.

A mess of potage, a glass of wine;

A game - and he travels on.He is going once, and going twice,

Hes going and almost gone.

But the Master comes and the foolish crowdNever can quite understand

The worth of a soul and the change thats wrought

By the touch of the Masters hand.


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MY MOTHER MADE A MEAT LOAF - Jack Prelutsky

My mother made a meatloaf

that provided much distress,she tried her best to serve it,

but met with no success,her sharpest knife was powerless

to cut a single slice,

and her efforts with a cleaverfailed completely to suffice.

She whacked it with a hammer,

and she smacked it with a brickbut she couldnt faze that meatloaf

it remained without a nick

We borrowed bows and arrows,

and we fired at close range,

it didnt make a difference,I decided I would help her

and assailed it with a drill,

but the drill made no impression,

though I worked with all my skill.

We chipped at it with chisels,

but we didnt make a dent,it appeared my mothers meatloaf

was much harder than cement,then we set upon that meatloaf

with a hatchet and an ax,

but that meatloaf stayed unblemishedand withstood our fierce attacks.

We borrowed bows and arrows,

and we fired at close range,it didnt make a difference,

for that meatloaf didnt changewe beset it with a blowtorch,but we couldnt find a flaw,

and we both were flabbergasted

when it broke the power saw.

We hired a hippopotamus

to trample it around,

but that meatloaf was so mightythat it simply stood its ground,

now we manufacture meatloaves

by the millions all year long,they are famous in construction.

building houses tall and strong.


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RULES AND REGULATIONS Lewis Carroll

A short direction

To avoid dejection,By variations

In occupations,And prolongation

Of relaxation,

And combinationsOf recreations,

And disputation

On the state of the nation

In adaptationTo your station,

By invitationsTo friends and relations,By evitation

Of amputation,

By permutationIn conversation,

And deep reflection

Youll avoid dejection.

Learn well your grammar

And never stammer,

Write well and neatly,And sing most sweetly,

Be enterprising,

Love early rising,Go walk of six miles,

Have ready quick smiles

With lightsome laughter

Soft flowing after.Drink tea, not coffee;

Never eat toffy.Eat bread with butter.

Once more, dont stutter.

Dont waste your money,Abstain from honey.

Shut doors behind you,

(Dont slam them, mind you.)

Drink beer, not porter.Dont enter the water

Till to swim you are able.Sit close to the table.Take care of a candle.

Shut a door by the handle,

Dont push with your shoulderUntil you are older.

Lose not a button,

Refuse cold mutton

Starve your canaries.Believe in fairies,

If you are able,

Dont have a stableWith any mangers.

Be rude to strangers.

Moral: Behave.


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Class A108 B Continued

Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.

Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?

I have lived my life, and that which I have done

May He within Himself make pure! but thou,If thou shouldst never see my face again,

Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayerThan this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice

Rise like a fountain for me night and day.

For what are men better than sheep or goatsThat nourish a blind life within the brain,

If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer

Both for themselves and those who call them friend ?

For so the whole round earth is every wayBound by gold chains about the feet of God.

But now farewell. I am going a long wayWith these thou sest - if indeed I go -(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)

To the island-valley of Avilion;

Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies

Deep-meadowd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns

And bowery hollows crownd with summer sea,

Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.So said he, and the barge with oar and sail

Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan

That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood

With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere

Revolving many memories, till the hullLookd one black dot against the verge of dawn,

And on the mere the wailing died away.


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AMANDA! - Robin Klein

Dont bite your nails, Amanda!

Dont hunch your shoulders, Amanda!Stop that slouching and sit up straight,

Amanda!

(There is a languid, emerald sea,

where the sole inhabitant is me -a mermaid, drifting blissfully.)

Did you finish your homework, Amanda?

Did you tidy your room, Amanda?I thought I told you to clean your shoes,

Amanda!

(I am an orphan, roaming the street.

I pattern soft dust with my hushed, bare feet.

The silence is golden, the freedom is sweet.)

Dont eat that chocolate, Amanda!

Remember your acne, Amanda!

Will you please look at me when Im speaking to you,Amanda!

(I am Rapunzel, I have not a care;life in a tower is tranquil and rare;

Ill certainly never let down my bright hair!)

Stop that sulking at once, Amanda!

Youre always so moody, Amanda!

Anyone would think that I nagged at you,Amanda!


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(BRACKETS) John Coldwell

It was Wednesday. Maths. Page 28.

And I was already thinking about tomorrow.Thursday. Maths. Page 29.

We were doing problems.

The ones where you have to remove the brackets first.

I was on question 13 and right inside a bracket,

When this strange phrase came into my head.

And before I could trap it in a bracket

It shot out of my mouthInto the classroom.

Bring on the dancing prunes!

The room went silent

And thirty pairs of bracket-solving eyesSwivelled in my direction.

The teacher stopped putting crosses

In somebodys maths book

And looked crossly at me.What did you say?

I could have told himBut instead,

I put a bracket round my reply

And saidNothing.

The teacher sighed.How would it be ifeverybodyCalled out the first thing that came into their heads?

(Very interesting.)


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Class A109 A Serious Poetry, Grades 9 and 10

ABOUT SCHOOL - Author Unknown

He always wanted to explain things. But no one cared.

So he drew.

Sometimes he would just draw and it wasnt anything,He wanted to carve it in stone or write it in the sky.

He would lie out on the grass and look up in the sky and it would

be only the sky and the things inside him that needed saying.

And it was after that he drew the picture.

It was a beautiful picture. He kept it under his pillow and

would let no one see it.And he would look at it every night and think about it.

And when it was dark and his eyes were closed he could see it stillAnd it was all of him and he loved it.

When he started school he brought it with him.

Not to show to anyone, but just to have with him like a friend.

It was funny about school.

He sat in a square brown desk just like all the other square

brown desks and he thought it should be red.And his room was a square brown room. Like all the other rooms.

And it was tight and close. And stiff.

He hated to hold the pencil and chalk, with his arm stiff and

his feet flat on the floor, stiff, with the teacher watching

and watching.

The teacher came and spoke to him..

She told him to wear a tie like all the other boys.He said he didnt like them and she said it didnt matter.

After that they drew. And he drew all yellow and it was the way he

felt about morning. And it was beautiful.

The teacher came and smiled at him. Whats this? she said.

Why dont you draw something like Kens drawing?Isnt that beautiful?

Continued on next page


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Class A109 A Continued

After that his mother bought him a tie and he always drew

airplanes and rocket-ships like everyone else.

And he threw the old picture away.

And when he lay out alone looking up at the sky, it was big and blue,and all of everything, but he wasnt anyone.

He was square and brown inside and his hands were stiff.And he was like everyone else. All the things inside him that

needed saying didnt need it anymore.

It had stopped pushing. It was crushed.Stiff.

Like everything else.

Class A109 B Serious Poetry, Grades 9 and 10

constantly risking absurdity - Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Constantly risking absurdityand death

whenever he performs

above the headsof his audience

the poet like an acrobat

climbs on rimeto a high wire of his own making

and balancing on eyebeams

above a sea of facespaces his way

to the other side of day

performing entrechats

and sleight-of -foot tricksand other high theatrics

and all without mistaking

any thingfor what it may not be



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For hes the super realist

who must perforce perceive

taut truth

before the taking of each stance or stepin his supposed advance

toward that still higher perchwhere Beauty stands and waits

with gravity

to start her death-defying leap

And he

a little charleychaplin man

who may or may not catchher fair eternal form

spreadeagled in the empty airof existence

Class A109 D Humorous Poetry, Grades 9 and 10

THE OLYMPIAN Gordon Korman

1. Im going to practice every day,Im going to train like mad,

Ill be the best Olympian my country ever had.

Ive got the guts, the will to win,Tenacity, I think.

Theres just one thing to hold me back -

At every sport I stink.

2. Ill start with gold in pole vault,

Run and plant the stick and fly(Im asking the officials not to put the bar so high.)

And then Ill throw the discus,

Ive got confidence galore.

Why, just last week when practicingI shattered our glass door .



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Class A109 D Continued

3. And for the pool Im eating right,

And keeping fit and trim.

To get that breaststroke medal, I might even learn to swim.

4. Of course, Ill sweep the track events

Just like a shooting star,Ill even win the marathon -

I hope its not too far!

5. Im trying out for basketball

Cause its my favourite sport.

I know that I can help the team - although Im very short

6. In boxing Ill accept a bronze,

I dont expect the gold.My sister knocked me out last week;Shes only three years old.

7. Ill win the weight-lifting eventsAlthough Im not too strong,

Those medals are so heavy, Ill be huge before too long.

8. As for fencing, all opponentsbetter be en garde,

I almost stabbed my dad last week

While training in the yard.

9. Ill shatter the cycling records.

My opponents, to their sorrow,Dont realize my training wheels

are coming off tomorrow.

10. And to this stack of medals,

Ill just have to add one more:

Decathlon - I cant miss, since Ive

Won every sport before.

11.I11 be a hit. Theres just one snag

I have to work out first.Of all the people trying out,

I know Ill be the worst.

I almost hear the anthem,Yes, my lifes in perfect synch,

Except for that one tiny flaw -

At every sport I stink.


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Class A110 A Serious Poetry, Grades 11 and 12

THE TRAP - William Beyer

That red fox,

Back in the furthest field,Caught in my hidden trap,

Was half mad with fear.During the night

He must have ripped his foot

From the cold steel.I saw him early this morning,

Dragging his hurt leg,

Bleeding a path across the gold

wheat,Whining with the pain;

His eyes like cracked marbles.I followed as he moved,His thin body pulled to one side

In a weird helplessness.

He hit the wire fence,Pushing through it

Into the deep, morning corn,

And was gone.

The old man looked around thekitchen

To see if anyone was listening.

Crazy red fox,Will kill my chickens no longer.

Will die somewhere in hiding.

He lit the brown tobacco carefully,

Watching the blue smoke rise anddisappear

In the movement of the air.Scratching his red nose slowly,

Thinking something grave for a long

moment,He stared out of the bright window.

He wont last long with that leg, he

said.

The old man turned his headTo see if his wife was listening.

But she was deep in thought,Her stained fingersPressing red berries in a pie.

He turned his white head

Toward the open window again.Guess Ill ride into the back field,

first thing.

Some mighty big corn back there this

year.Mighty big corn.

His wife looked up from her work,

Smiled almost secretly to herself,And finished packing the ripe berries

Into the pale crust.

Class A110 B Serious Poetry, Grades 11 and 12

STRONG YELLOW, FOR READING ALOUD Margaret Avison

A painted horse,

a horse-sized clay horse, really,like blue riverclay, painted,

with real mural eyes - or a

Clydesdale with his cuff-tuftsBarbered - the mane

marcelled like a conch and cropped and plastered down like a

merry-go-round ponys



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without the varnish

all kinds confounding,

yet a powerful presence.

on the rainy Sunday diningroom wall,framed by a shallow niche. . .

Q: Miss Avison could you

relate that to the head of a horse?

No. No. That one

was strong yellow - almost tangerine, with

white hairs, the eyes

whited too as ifpulled back by the hair

so the eyeballs would water with wind in them,one youd call Whitey, maybe,though he was not, I say,

white . . .

Q: Auburn?

It was not a horse-shaped horse,

or sized. It loomed. Only thenarrow forehead part, the

eyes starting loose and appled,

and shoulder-streaming part. . . .Colour? a stain on the

soiled snow-mattress-colour of

the office-day noon-hour mezzaninethat is the sky downtown.

Q: The Head of the Horsesees, you say in that poem.

Was that your vision of

God, at that period

in your development?'

Who I was then we

both approach timorously -or I do, believe me!



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But I think, reading the lines,

the person looking up like that

was all squeezed solid, only a crowd-pressed

mass of herself at shoulder-level, as it were, or at least

nine to noon, and the p.m. still to comeday in day out as the saying goes

which pretty well covers everything

or seems to, in andout then,when its like that: no heart, no surprises, no

people-scope, no utterances,

no strangeness, no nougat of delight

to touch, and worse,no secret cherished in the

midriff then.Whom you look up from that tois Possibility not

God.

I'd think . . .

Q: Strong yellow.

Yes! Not the clay-bluewith rump and hoof and all and almost

eyelashes, the pupil

fixed on you, on that wall offake hunt, fake aristocracy

in this fake Sunday

diningroom I was tellingabout . . .


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Class A110 - D Humorous Poetry, Grades 11 and 12

WARTY BLIGGENS THE TOAD Don Marquis

i met a toad

the other day by the nameof warty bliggens

he was sitting undera toadstool

feeling contented

he explained that when the cosmoswas created

that toadstool was especially

planned for his personal

shelter from sun and rainthought out and prepared

for him

do not tell me

said warty bliggens

that there is not a purposein the universe

the thought is blasphemy

a little moreconversation revealed

that warty bliggens

considers himself to bethe center of the said

universe

the earth existsto grow toadstools for him

to sit under

the sun to give him lightby day and the moon

and wheeling constellations

to make beautiful

the night for the sake ofwarty bliggens

to what act of yours

do you imputethis interest on the part

of the creatorof the universe

i asked him

why is it that youare so greatly favoured

ask rather

said warty bliggenswhat the universe

has done to deserve me

if i were a

human being i would

not laughtoo complacently

at poor warty bliggens

for similar

absurditieshave only too often

lodged in the crinkles

of the human cerebrumarchy


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Class A110 E Humorous Poetry, Grades 11 and 12

JABBERWOCKY Lewis Carroll

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

Beware the jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!

He took his vorpal sword in hand:Long time the manxome foe he sought

So rested he by the Tumtum tree,And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One,two! And through and throughThe vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

He chortled in his joy.

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.


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READING

Class A500 A Humorous Reading, Grades 3 and 4

Excerpt from MORRIS HAS A COLD - Bernard Wiseman

Morris the Moose said, I have a cold. My nose is walking.

Boris the Bear said, You mean your nose is running.

No, said Morris. My nose is walking. I only have a little cold.

Boris said, Let me feel your forehead.

Morris said, I dont have four heads!

Boris said, I know you dont have four heads. But this is called your forehead.

Morris said, That is my ONE head.

All right, Boris growled. Let me feel your one head, Boris said. Your one head

feels hot. That means you are sick. You need some rest. You should lie down.....

Morris coughed.

Boris asked, How does your throat feel?

Morris said, Hairy.

No, no, said Boris. I dont mean outside. How does it feel INSIDE?

Morris said, I will see ...

No! No! No! Boris shouted. Ohhh - just open your mouth. Let me look inside....Now

stick out your tongue, Boris said.

Morris said, I will not stick out my tongue. That is not nice.

Boris shouted, Stick out your tongue!

Morris stuck out his tongue.

STOP! Boris roared. That is not nice!



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Class A500 A continued

Morris said, I told you it was not nice.

Boris growled, Thats because you did it the wrong way. Look - This is how to stick outyour tongue.

Boris looked at Morriss tongue....

Your tongue is white. That means your stomach is upset, said Boris.... Here is a bowlof nice, hot soup.

Morris licked the soup.

No, said Boris. Use the spoon.

Morris used the spoon.

No, no, said Boris. Put the spoon in your mouth.

Morris put the spoon in his mouth.

No! No! No! Boris shouted. Give me the spoon!

Boris fed Morris the soup....

In the morning Morris said, My nose is not walking. My one head is not hot. My coldis better. Make me a big breakfast.

All right, said Boris. But you have to do something for me ....

Morris asked, What?

DONT EVER GET SICK AGAIN!


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Class A500 B Humorous Reading, Grades 3 and 4

Excerpt from HOWIE MERTON AND THE MAGIC DUST - Faye Couch Reeves

Eddie turned to Howie. You have one more thing to do before you are finished for the

day. Eddie stepped up onto the edge of the compost box. It was only a couple of inches wide,but she walked easily around the edge. She did not even begin to tip over or fall. How did she

do that? Howie wondered.

Eddie jumped to the ground. 'Now you do the same thing, she said.

Howie stepped up. He put one foot on the edge of the box. The fish heads stared up at

him with their fishy eyes. He looked at Eddie. Her green eyes stared at him, too. Daring him.

You arent afraid of a few fish heads, are you? Eddie asked with a smile. Or is it the

orange peels youre afraid of? She laughed.

Howie took a deep breath. No girl was going to laugh at him. He slid his foot forward.

Then he put his other foot in front. He took a few steps. He was doing all right! He tookanother step. Then he began to tip. First he tipped one way. Then the other. He tried to stop,

but it was too late. He fell right into the oatmeal, the potato peelings, and all those fish heads

with their staring eyes. He sat in the middle of the fish heads and groaned.

When he crawled out of the compost box, Howie had a potato peel over one ear, a fishhead down the front of his shirt, and oatmeal in both his shoes. Soap and water at Thomas's

house did not help. Thomas made him eat his cookie outside.

Howie's eyes watered all the way home. With every step he took, the oatmeal in his

shoes squished between his toes. He could hardly breathe. He smelled just like Miss

Marshmallow's cat food. The neighborhood cats thought so too. Every few steps Howie had to

stop and yell Scat! to all the cats that were following him. They ran away but came right backagain.

Finally he was home. Howie opened the front door of his house. If he could just get tothe bathroom, he would take a bath - clothes and all. He could hang his clothes up to dry in the

basement and no one would know what had happened.

He tiptoed down the hall. He was just two steps away from the bathroom when he heard

a terrible howl. Did one of those cats follow him into the house? Howie turned around. It was

his mother.


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Class A500 D Serious Reading, Grades 3 and 4

Excerpt from EDDIE AND THE FAIRY GODPUPPY - Willo Davis Roberts

The sign in front said RIVERPARK CHILDRENS HOME, but it didnt fool Eddie.

An orphanage, thats what it is, he said to Miss Susan, who had a sign just like it, onlysmaller, on her desk. Ill be stuck here forever, in an orphanage. He had picked some daisies

from the field next door, and he stuck them in the little green vase beside her name sign.

Miss Susan was a pretty lady with brown hair who smiled a lot. She looked up at him

and shook her head.

Oh, Eddie, you know that Mrs. Wilson established the home to take care of children on

a temporary basis, until permanent homes can be found for them, or they can rejoin their own

families. I dont think youll be here so long, dear. Two boys left last week to go into lovely

homes.

Eddie rattled the marbles in his pocket. That wont happen to me, though. Nobodysgoing to adopt me. Nobody likes me. Im too ugly. They dont even want me in a foster home.

Miss Susan laughed and ruffled his hair with her fingers. Eddie liked it when she did

that, though he never let it show. He remembered his grandma had done it, before she died.

Oh, Eddie, Miss Susan said, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Youre not ugly at all.

Why dont you go and tell Cook I said you might have some bread and jelly?

Eddie sighed. Eating wasnt as good as being adopted, but it was the best he could do.

He left Miss Susans office and wandered down the hallway. In the glass-fronted bookcases therehe could see his own reflection; he stopped and scowled at it. Red hair standing in stiff bristles,

a short nose sprinkled with freckles; no wonder nobody wanted him. Whod pick out a boy wholooked like that?


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Class A500 E Serious Reading, Grades 3 and 4

Excerpt from JAKE DRAKE: BULLY BUSTER Andrew Clements

Then Link stopped. His face looked pale, and his lips looked blue. In a small

voice he said, I cant do this. Reports. You know, talking to the whole class. Hegulped. And then very softly he said, I cant.

We were face-to-face, about two feet apart. I was looking up at him. No

SuperBully in sight. Just a scared kid. And then I knew why Link had kept telling me

that I had to give the report.

Then I felt this rush of power. At last, the great and fearsome Link - completely

at my mercy! At last, it was my turn to be the bulliest SuperBully of all!

I could have said, Oh, wook! Its Wittle Winkyafwaid of a weport!

I could have said, So - you make me feel terrible for a whole month, and now

you want me to feel sorry for you? Well, too bad, tough guy!

Or I could have said, Hurry - lets get in the room so the whole class can see

mighty Link Baxter throw up all over the floor - ha, ha, ha!

But I didnt.

I said, Itll be okay. Really. All you have to do is stand there and point at stuff

when I talk about it. This is a great model. Everyones going to think its the best.

Link swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Okay . . . but youre gonna do the

report, right?

I nodded, and we carried the project into the room and up to the table by thechalkboard.

I looked at a card I had made and said, We made something to show how the

Native Americans lived before the pilgrims came.

And Link pulled the bag off the model. Some kids in the back stood up so they

could see it better. And Mrs. Brattle said, Everyone should come up closer so you can

see. This is really special. Careful, dont bump the table.

The kids were blown away. And so was I . . . Links face got red, but he smiled.

And it wasnt a bully-smile. It was his real smile.


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Class A501 A Humorous Readings, Grades 5 and 6

Excerpt from GO JUMP IN THE POOL Gordon Korman

The funny photo contest was received with an enthusiasm that even Bruno hadnt

predicted the faculty trip to town brought back two cases of film ordered by thestudents. Mark Davies recruited several helpers in anticipation of a heavy workload.

To everyones surprise, especially the Headmasters, the first entry was made by

Mrs. Sturgeon. She entered the picture of her husband winning the door prize at thetalent show. As Boots put it, Everyone can forget first prize. Thats the funniest picture

I ever saw in my life!

But then a senior named Mario Brundia entered a picture of Wilbur

Hackenschleimer, his mouth opened wide enough to drive a truck through, about to

attack a triple-decker hamburger with the works, and Boots was not so sure.

Pictures began to pour in by the hundreds. Notable among these was a

particularly good study of Coach Flynn lying on the floor in pain after demonstrating tothe boys the proper way to use the vaulting horse. Someone had taken a camera to gymclass. There was also a picture of Sidney Rampulsky in free fall over the newly-waxed

floor of the infirmary, where he had gone for an aspirin and stayed for an ankle cast.

Bruno Walton had even managed to capture on film the expression on the face of Mr.Hubert, the chemistry teacher, when someone accidentally dipped his beard in a beaker of

acid. This picture was of such good quality that smoke could actually be seen rising from

the tip of the beard.

And still the pictures poured in. There were so many in just five days that Bruno

and Boots had to start on a second wall in the dining hall. And mealtimes at Macdonald

Hall were scenes of raucous delight as the boys all rushed to see the days entries.To Brunos chagrin, Boots entered a picture of his roommate in a state of peaceful

slumber, the blankets in turmoil and the pillow partially over his face. To get even,

Bruno snapped a still-life photo of Bootss open gym locker, crammed full of old sweatsocks and wadded-up jerseys. Prominent at the top was the stenciled name, Melvin 0

Neal.

Even Miss Scrimmage became enthusiastically involved. Unfortunately,

however, she was under the impression that she was entering a serious photo contest, andwhen she set up her antique camera on its tripod one evening, it was to capture on film

the beauty of a bowl of fruit. This was the first time in thirty years that Miss Scrimmage

had used her camera, so she might be excused for grossly overloading the hand-held flashtray. She was humming happily to herself as she crept under the black hood and peered

through the lens to focus.

Foom! The flash powder ignited the hood, the curtains and the upholstery. Dense

clouds of white smoke poured out of the sitting room and into the hall.

Fire! screamed Miss Scrimmage.



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Class A501 A continued

Into the room burst Cathy Burton, wildly spraying foam from a fire extinguisher.She sprayed until a thick blanket of foam lay over everything, including the

Headmistress. Then, satisfied that the fire was out, she whipped out her own small

camera and snapped a picture of Miss Scrimmage amid the wreckage.

Diane Grant and two other girls came rushing in. What happened?

Oh, nothing, Cathy said airily. Miss Scrimmage has everything under

control.

Perry Elbert was splashing happily in a bubble bath one evening when his

roommate appeared, thrust a rubber duck into his arms and snapped a picture.

Things were getting worse. When Wilbur Hackenschleimer put his football

helmet on at practice one afternoon, cold spaghetti spilled down over his head. Bruno

Walton just happened to be there with his camera.

Miss Scrimmages also had its share of troubles over the photo contest.When Cathy was put on kitchen duty as punishment, she didnt see Diane Grant

sneak in and add half a box of detergent to the dishwasher. Diane took a picture of

Cathy, knee-deep in suds, vainly trying to stem the overflow with her bare hands.

For revenge, Cathy knotted all Dianes underwear together and photographed her,perplexed and astonished, pulling miles of it out of her drawer.

There were also pictures of girls caught unawares arm-wrestling, smoking cigars

and drooling toothpaste. No one was immune.

Class A501 B Humorous Readings, Grades 5 and 6

Excerpt from ALEXANDER AND THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERYBAD DAY - Judith Viorst

I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now theres gum in my hair and when I got

out of bed this morning I tripped on the skateboard and by mistake I dropped my sweater in the

sink while the water was running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good,

very bad day.

At breakfast Anthony found a Corvette Sting Ray car kit in his breakfast cereal box and

Nick found a Junior Undercover Agent code ring in his breakfast cereal box but in my breakfast

cereal box all I found was breakfast cereal.

I think Ill move to Australia.

In the car pool Mrs. Gibson let Becky have a seat by the window. Audrey and Elliot got

seatss by the window too. I said I was being scrunched. I said I was being smushed. I said, if I

dont get a seat by the window I am going to be carsick. No one even answered.



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Class A501 B continued

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

At school Mrs. Dickens liked Pauls picture of the sailboat better than my picture of the

invisible castle.

At singing time she said I sang too loud. At counting time she said I left out sixteen.Who needs sixteen?

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Thats what it was, because after school my mom took us all to the dentist and Dr. Fields

found a cavity just in me. Come back next week and Ill fix it, said Dr. Fields.

Next week, I said, Im going to Australia.

On the way downstairs the elevator door closed on my foot and while we were waiting

for my mom to go get the car Anthony made me fall where it was muddy and then when I

started crying because of the mud Nick said I was a crybaby and while I was punching Nick forsaying crybaby my mom came back with the car and scolded me for being muddy and fighting.

I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I told everybody. No one even

answered.

When we picked up my dad at his office he said I couldnt play with his copying

machine, but I forgot. He also said to watch out for the books on his desk, and I was careful as

could be except for my elbow. He also said dont fool around with his phone, but I think I called

Australia. My dad said please dont pick him up anymore.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

There were lima beans for dinner and I hate limas.

There was kissing on TV and I hate kissing.

My bath was too hot, I got soap in my eyes, my marble went down the drain, and I had to

wear my railroad-train pajamas. I hate my railroad pajamas.

When I went to bed Nick took back the pillow he said I could keep and the Mickey

Mouse night-light burned out and I bit my tongue.

The cat wants to sleep with Anthony, not with me.

It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

My mom says some days are like that.

Even in Australia.


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Excerpt from COPPER SUNRISE Bryan Buchan

In one of our fields was a larks nest, and on some days I could sit for half the afternoon

watching the male bird on top of the stone wall. He liked the feel of the warm sunlight, thesound of the buzzing swarms of insects, the colour woven into the grass. It was his world, and

he was in charge. I almost wanted to be that bird.

One bright afternoon I crouched in the deep grass, leaning against an old rock that had

fallen long ago from the crumbling wall. The lark was sitting proudly on a bit of post that stuckabove gorse bushes of the hedgerow.

His song was soothing: I began to daydream, dim images flooding my mind in rhythm

with his notes, flowing and melting into one another. The real world was far away.

Slowly, almost as though it were a part of my daydream, I saw the lark stiffen. A fewfeathers floated out from his body as he fell from the post.

I lifted myself from the grass and moved towards the place where he had fallen. A

familiar voice was speaking beside me but 1 paid no heed.

There, in the sharp spikes of the gorse bush, hung my lark, still alive. His bill moved

slowly, open and shut. His glazed eyes stared into nothing. And again the voice at my side.

The lark's head drooped onto his twisted wing. Gradually his eyes turned dull and filmy

as his life drained away. Robert was beside me, with a sling clutched in his hand.

The lark was dead--an ordinary field-bird, hanging stupidly in a gorse bush, the beautiful,

magical music gone.

I turned to face my brother.

Why did you kill him, Robert? I pleaded.

Robert looked away from me, but I knew his face was white, and his eyes frightened.

I didn't think I'd hit it, Jamie. I only wanted to scare it. His voice trailed away and waslost. . . .

We are leaving now, Jamie, he said quietly.


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Excerpt from THE LOON IN MY BATHTUB - Ronald Rood

Human beings, Don Brown read aloud, are born with just two basic fears. One is the

fear of loud noises. The other is the fear of falling. All other fears are learned. This includesthe fear of fire, fear of getting hurt, and even the fear of snakes.

He put the book down. See? I told you. People arent naturally afraid of snakes. Its

just because everybody else is, so they are, too.

I thought this revelation over for a minute. Do you mean that a little baby isnt afraid

of snakes?''

Not according to this book.

Not even a big one? Not even if it crawled right over his feet?

Nope.

We were kneeling down beside a pen in the back yard. Dad had taken us children to the

Bronx Zoo early in the season, and Id bought a fifty-cent Ditmars booklet which told aboutsnakes. It made them sound so fascinating that Don and I caught a harmless garter snake on the

strength of it. Together we learned about the amazing tongue which sampled the air for

odors. We discovered the belly scutes which allowed the snake to slide over the ground, and the

peculiar jaw-hinge which enabled it to swallow relatively monstrous prey.

We became so engrossed that we forgot our own fears. Soon we captured more snakes.Finally we had over a dozen of them. Now, looking at the pen full of snakes basking peacefully

in the sun, we decided that some day wed see if the book was really right.

The chance came sooner than either of us expected. A day or two later, we had visitors.Now, Ronald, you watch Phillip and see that he keeps out of mischief, Mother said, shootingme out the back door with a damp little two-year old. His mother and I want to talk for

awhile.

I surveyed my small charge disdainfully. Still in rubber pants, I grumbled. And Im

stuck with the job of taking care of him.

Out into the back lawn we went. Then I remembered Don Brown and his book.

I glanced back at the house. No sign of any adults. Phillip, I said to him, come with

me.

Trustingly, the little fellow took my hand. I led him over to the edge of the snake pen.

These are nice, tame snakes I purred. How would you like to play with them?



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Class A502 - A Continued

Im not sure what he said, but it wouldnt have made any difference anyway. Quickly I

picked him up and set him down right in the middle of my garter snakes.

He looked up at me in surprise. Its all right, I nodded. Go ahead. Play with them.

See how smooth they are. Not slimy. See how much they like you, Phillip.

And lo, the book was right! Little Phillip had the time of his young life. He stroked the

snakes thoughtfully as they lay in the sun. He picked them up and let them slide back to the

ground. His eyes shone. Pleasure showed in his whole being as he sat among his new-found

friends.

Everything was lovely. For five minutes, everything was wonderful. After that, things

began to happen.

First there was a noise. About one part scream and four parts bellow. Then, before I

could turn around, there was a series of earth tremors. Phillip suddenly shot skyward, trailing

snakes as he rose. At the same instant I was sent sprawling on the grass.The earth whirled for a moment. Then my eyes came into focus. I saw the retreating

form of Phillips indignant mother, who had snatched her beloved from the jaws of death.

Dont you ever play with my boy again! she threatened. Ever, ever, ever!

And - you guessed it: Phils been afraid of snakes ever since. Ive been afraid of his

mother, too.

Class A502 B A Humorous Reading, Grades 7 and 8

NEVER PUT ROCKS IN YOUR MOUTH Shirley Barone Craddock

When I was in the sixth grade, my teacher asked our class the question, What

does 'doing the right thing mean to you? She asked us to think about that question overthe weekend, and to talk to our parents or anyone else we thought might have a good

answer. By Monday, we were to turn in an essay on what doing the right thing meant,

and be prepared to live up to our answers.

The entire weekend, I wracked my brain trying to come up with something thatwould impress my teacher and be easy to live by. I talked to my parents, called my

grandmother and asked my next-door neighbor. I even asked the mailman! Everyone

had good answers, but I didnt feel like I could live up to them.

By Sunday afternoon, I hadnt written my essay. To make matters worse, myparents said we were going to my Aunt Cindys house. That usually meant that I would

have to entertain my cousin Andrea while my parents visited after dinner. Andrea was

four and a major pest.



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Class A502 B continued

Just as I predicted, my parents told me to play with Andrea while they visited. Iturned on the television and found a Disney movie for Andrea, and then I sat down and

started to write my essay. I still didnt know what I was going to write about, but it was

due the next morning and this was my last chance.

Soon I felt a pair of eyes on me. It was Andrea.

What are you doing? she asked.

I have to write an essay about what doing the right thing means to me.

Andrea laughed. Thats easy , she said.

Okay , I said, thinking, What could this smart aleck four-year-old possibly

know that all of the adults who I had asked hadnt already come up with?

Tell me the answer, I said smugly.

Andrea cleared her throat and stood up.Doing the right thing means being nice to your family and friends. Doing what

your mommy says. Never lie. Eat lots of fruits and vegetables. Dont eat dog food.

Take a bath when youre dirty and wash your own private parts. Dont watch ickymovies with kissing and stuff. Dont waste water and electricity. Dont scare the cat.

Dont ever run away. And never, never put rocks in your mouth.

I stared with astonishment at my little cousin. Then I jumped up, grabbed Andrea

and gave her the biggest hug I could. Not only had Andrea answered a very toughquestion for me, I could easily live by all of her rules. All I had to do was be nice, not lie,

keep myself clean and healthy, not scare cats, and never, never put rocks in my mouth.

Piece of cake. So when I wrote my essay, I included the story about Andrea and how shehad answered my question.

Two weeks later, my teacher returned everyones essays. I received an A+ along

with a little note my teacher had written at the top: Always do the right thing - and give

Andrea an A+, too!


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Excerpt from THE LOVED AND LOST - Morley Callaghan

In the corner to the left of the Canadian goal a Ranger forward was blocked out and held

against the boards by a Canadian defenceman, who cleared the puck up the ice. The Rangerforward, skating past the defenceman, turned and slashed at him, breaking the stick across his

shoulder. The official didnt see it. The play was at the other end of the ice. The defencemanwho had been slashed spun around crazily on his skates, dropped to his knees, and circled around

holding his neck. The crowd screamed. The other Canadian defenceman, dropping his stick

and gloves, charged at the Ranger forward and started swinging. The Ranger forward backedaway, his stick up, trying to protect himself. The official, stopping the play, made frantic

motions at the fist-swinging defenceman, waving him off the ice. Another Ranger forward came

out of nowhere and dived at the defenceman and tackled him; then all the players converged on

one another, each one picking an opponent in the widening huddle, fists swinging, gloves andsticks littering the ice. Some of the players fenced with their sticks. The crowd howled in glee.

The referee finally separated the players and handed out penalties. He gave a major penalty tothe Canadian defenceman who had first dropped his stick to attack the Ranger forward who hadreally precipitated the brawl; he gave a minor to the Ranger who had dived at this defenceman

and tackled him. And the forward who had broken his stick over the defencemans shoulder, the

instigator, the real culprit, was permitted to escape. He skated around lazily, an indifferent

innocent.

What about him? the priest asked Catherine as he pointed to the Ranger. Yes, what

about him? Look at the fake innocent, Catherine cried. She thrust out her arm accusingly. Ten

thousand others stood up, pointed and screamed indignantly, Hey, what about him? Why dont

you give him a penalty? The Ranger skated nonchalantly to the bench to get a new stick. Hisair of innocence was infuriating, yet the referee, the blind fool, was deceived by it. The players

on the Canadian bench, all standing up, slapped their sticks on the boards, screamed at thereferee, and pointed. The referee, his hands on his hips, went right on ignoring the angry booing.

He proposed to face off the puck.

Boobooboo! Catherine yelled, her handsome face twisted, her eyes glazed with

indignation. Hes letting him go scot-free. The one who started the whole thing.

The stout French Canadian, who had been standing up shouting imprecations in

bewilderingly rapid French, suddenly broke into English. Twelve thousand people were alsoscreaming, but by shifting to English he imagined he would get the referee to listen to him. His

jaw trembled, his eyes rolled back in their sockets, he was ready to weep; then his face became

red and swollen, and he cried out passionately, Blind man! Idiot! All night you are a blind man

A thief, a cheat! Youre despicable go on back home, go out and die! I spit on you! Hecupped his hands around his mouth and let out a gigantic moan.



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Class A502 - D Continued

The ice was now a small white space at the bottom of a great black pit where sacrificial

figures writhed, and on the vast slopes of the pit a maniacal white-faced mob shrieked at the one

with the innocent air who had broken the rules, and the one who tolerated the offence. It was a

yapping frenzied roaring. Short and choppy above the sound of horns, whistles, and bells, thestout French Canadian pounded McAlpines shoulder; he jumped up on his own seat, he reached

down and tore off his rubbers and hurled them at the ice. A shower of rubbers came from allsections of the arena and littered the ice as the players ducked and backed away. Hats sailed in

wide arcs above the ice and floated down.

Theyve all gone crazy, McAlpine muttered to Catherine. Just a crazy, howling

mob.

Class A502 E Serious Reading, Grades 7 and 8

Excerpt from THE GIVER Lois Lowry

Jonas was identified as a possible Receiver many years ago. We have observed him

meticulously. There were no dreams of uncertainty.

He has shown all of the qualities that a Receiver must have.

With her hand still firmly on his shoulder, the Chief Elder listed the qualities.

Intelligence, she said. We are all aware that Jonas has been a top student throughout

his school days.

Integrity, she cried next. Jonas has, like all of us, committed minor transgressions.

She smiled at him. We expect that. We hoped, also that he would present himself promptly forchastisement, and he has always done so.

Courage, she went on. Only one of us here today has ever undergone the rigoroustraining required of a Receiver. He, of course, is the most important member of the Committee:

the current Receiver. It was he who reminded us, again and again, of the courage required.

Jonas, she said, turning to him, but speaking in a voice that the entire community could

hear, the training required of you involves pain. Physical pain.

He felt fear flutter within him.

You have never experienced that. Yes, you have scraped your knees in falls from your

bicycle. Yes, you crushed your finger in a door last year.

Jonas nodded, agreeing, as he recalled the incident, and its accompanying misery.

But you will be faced, now, she explained gently, with pain of a magnitude that none

of us here can comprehend because it is beyond our experience. The Receiver himself was not

able to describe it, only to remind us that you would be faced with it, that you would need

immense courage. We cannot prepare you for that.



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Class 502 D continued

But we feel certain that you are brave, she said to him

He did not feel brave at all. Not now.

The fourth essential attribute, the Chief Elder said, is wisdom. Jonas has not yetacquired that. The acquisition of wisdom will come through his training.

We are convinced that Jonas has the ability to acquire wisdom. That is what we looked

for.

Finally, The Receiver must have one more quality, and it is one which I can only name,but not describe. I do not understand it. You members of the community will not understand it,

either. Perhaps Jonas will, because the current Receiver has told us that Jonas already has this

quality. He calls it the Capacity to See Beyond.

The Chief Elder looked at Jonas with a question in her eyes. The audience watched him,

too. They were silent.For a moment he froze, consumed with despair. He didnthave it, the whatever-she-had-

said. He didnt know what it was. Now was the moment when he would have to confess, to say,

No, I dont. I cant, and just throw himself on their mercy, ask their forgiveness, to explain

that he had been wrongly chosen, that he was not the right on at all.


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Excerpt from ALL I KNOW ABOUT ANIMAL BEHAVIOR Erma Bombeck

Wherever lost women gather - at service stations, in obscure cornfields, and on exit

ramps - we talk about this thing men have about giving directions.One woman told an unbelievable story one day about being lost. She stopped at a service

station and said, I'm trying to find where my son's baseball team is practicing. I'm looking for

Prindle's Field.

The man stroked his chin and said, Prindles Field is about three miles west of DakesCorners off the Hans Expressway using the Mill Road exit. You go by two stop signs, make a

right at the overhead, and theres a church on the corner that used to be Presbyterian but was

bought out by the Methodists. You take a jog in the road and follow through a dead end, then

turn left and youll see a little filling station called Freds.

She looked up and observed, Thats the name of this station. Wheres Prindles Field?

Thats what Im getting around to telling you. Youre there. Its behind the station.

The male species has a superiority complex about driving. I wish I had a dime for every

joke about women drivers Ive been assaulted with. They relish telling about the woman indriving school who consistently flunked her test because she couldnt be sure which was her

right hand and which was her left.

Years later she met her old driving instructor, who asked if she ever figured it out.

Certainly, she said proudly. I drive every day now. She held up both hands. Ruby

ring, right, and diamond ring, left.

Women have their jokes about men who drive. My favorite is: If a man and a womanjumped off a building at the same time, who would reach the ground first? Answer? The

woman. The man would get lost.

Douglas Corrigan never asked for directions. He just announced to a crowd of reporters

and cameras in 1938 that he was headed to California, hopped into his monoplane, and to the

horror of the people on the ground, made a wide circle and ended up in Dublin, Ireland.

Roy Riegels never asked. He was the USC center who was pitted against Georgia in theRose Bowl game in 1929. When a Georgia player fumbled, Riegels came up with the ball and

started a dash to the goal line.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong one. His own man finally stopped him on the three-yard

line.

And while were talking about heroes, Christopher Columbus wasnt all that swift. Turn

the guy around in the Bahamas a couple of times and he couldnt find America if it was on fire.



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Ah, well. As Humpty Dumpty said in Through the Looking Glass, When I use a

word, it means just what I choose it to mean - neither more nor less!

John Desmond Lewis worked a variation on that theme. Mr. Lewis was a

candidate in a British Parliamentary by-election in Liverpool recently, who decided toliven up an otherwise dull campaign by changing his name. So he did - to. . . TarquinFintimlinbinwhin bim lin Bus Stop-F Tang Ol Biscuit Barrel. Mr. Lewis never fully

explained why he changed his name to that. . .and I guess it wont matter a great deal to

posterity , because Tarquin Fintimlinbinwhin bim lin Bus Stop-F Tang Ol Biscuit Barrel

lost the election. Though he did pull in 223 votes. . . which proves, I suppose, that

eccentricity is alive and well and living in darkened ballot boxes in Liverpool.

In any case, John Desmond Lewiss name change for election purposes was not

the most inspired in the annals of world politics. I believe that honour must go to Luther

D. Knox of Louisiana.

I dont know much first-hand about Luther, but I wouldnt be surprised to learnthat hes doing well in advertising. Or used cars. I know that hes a first-rate judge of

voter disaffection.

In 1979, while a candidate for municipal office, Luther applied to have his name

entered at the bottom of the election ballot.

His new name, that is. Luther had had it officially changed.

To. . . None of the Above. Thats right - Luther D. Knoxs new name was Noneof the Above. His election opponents protested and the Louisiana attorney general

agreed with them, ruling that the state has a right to protect itself against candidates who

were fraudulent, confusing, and frivolous. Of course I dont have to tell you that the

ruse didnt work - if it had, None of the Above would be governor of Louisiana today - ifnot President of the United States.

When you think of it, its a good job Luther Knoxs brainstorm didnt occur to our

own Fathers of Confederation sitting around in Charlottetown 120-odd years ago. Theymight have gone for it. And its traumatic enough travelling abroad without having to

deal with questions like Country of origin, sir? Ahh . . . None of the Above.

I think Id rather be known as a Mesopelagian.


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Excerpt from THE CALL OF THE WILD - Jack London

He was older than the days he had seen and the breaths he had drawn. He linked the

past with the present, and the eternity behind him throbbed through him in a mighty rhythm towhich he swayed as the tides and seasons swayed. He sat by John Thornton's fire, a broad-

breasted dog, white-fanged and long-furred; but behind him were the shades of all manner of

dogs, half-wolves and wild wolves, urgent and prompting, tasting the savor of the meat he ate,thirsting for the water he drank, scenting the wind with him, listening with him and telling him

the sounds made by the wild life in the forest, dictating his moods, directing his actions, lying

down to sleep with him when he lay down, and dreaming with him and beyond him and

becoming themselves the stuff of his dreams.

So peremptorily did these shades beckon him, that each day mankind and the claims of

mankind slipped farther from him. Deep in the forest a call was sounding, and as often as he

heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fireand the beaten earth around it, and to plunge into the forest, and on and on, he knew not where or

why; nor did he wonder where or why, the call sounding imperiously, deep in the forest. But asoften as he gained the soft unbroken earth and the green shade, the love for John Thornton drew

him back to the fire again.

Thornton alone held him. The rest of mankind was as nothing. Chance travellers might

praise or pet him; but he was cold under it all, and from a too demonstrative man he would get

up and walk away. When Thorntons partners, Hans and Pete, arrived on the long-expected raft,

Buck refused to notice them till he learned they were close to Thornton; after that he tolerated

them in a passive sort of way, accepting favors from them as though he favored them by

accepting....For Thornton, however, his love seemed to grow and grow. He, alone among men, could

put a pack upon Bucks back in the summer travelling. Nothing was too great for Buck to do,

when Thornton commanded. One day... the men and dogs were sitting on the crest of a cliffwhich fell away, straight down, to naked bed-rock three hundred feet below. John Thornton was

sitting near the edge, Buck at his shoulder. A thoughtless whim seized Thornton, and he drew

the attention of Hans and Pete to the experiment he had in mind. Jump, Buck! hecommanded, sweeping his arm out over the chasm. The next instant he was grappling with Buck

on the extreme edge, while Hans and Pete were dragging them back into safety.

Its uncanny, Pete said, after it was over and they had caught their speech.

Thornton shook his head. No, it is splendid, and it is terrible, too. Do you know, itsometimes makes me afraid.

Im not hankering to be the man that lays hands on you while hes around, Pete

announced conclusively, nodding his head toward Buck.


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Class A503 E Serious Reading - Grades 9 and 10

Excerpt from JONATHAN LIVINGSTON SEAGULL - Richard Bach

By sunup, Jonathan Gull was practicing again. From five thousand feet the

fishing boats were specks in the flat blue water, Breakfast Flock was a faint cloud of dustmotes, circling.

He was alive, trembling ever so slightly with delight, proud that his fear was

under control. Then without ceremony he hugged in his forewings, extended his short,angled wingtips, and plunged directly toward the sea. By the time he passed four

thousand feet he had reached terminal velocity, the wind was a solid beating wall of

sound against which he could move no faster. He was flying now straight down, at twohundred fourteen miles per hour. He swallowed, knowing that if his wings unfolded at

that speed hed be blown into a million tiny shreds of seagull. But the speed was power,

and the speed was joy, and the speed was pure beauty.

He began his pullout at a thousand feet, wingtips thudding and blurring in thatgigantic wind, the boat and the crowd of gulls tilting and growing meteor-fast, directly in

his path.

He couldnt stop; he didnt know yet even how to turn at that speed.

Collision would be instant death.

And so he shut his eyes.

It happened that morning, then, just after sunrise, that Jonathan Livingston

Seagull fired directly through the centre of Breakfast Flock, ticking off two hundredtwelve miles per hour, eyes closed, in a great roaring shriek of wind and feathers. The

Gull of Fortune smiled upon him this once, and no one was killed.By the time he had pulled his beak straight up into the sky he was still scorching

along at a hundred and sixty miles per hour. When he had slowed to twenty and stretched

his wings again at last, the boat was a crumb on the sea, four thousand feet below.

His thought was triumph. Terminal velocity! A seagull at two hundred fourteen

miles per hour! It was a breakthrough, the greatest single moment in the history of the

Flock, and in that moment a new age opened for Jonathan Gull.


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JOAN OF . . . . . . . . - Judith Wilkie

Once very long ago, there was a young girl named Joan who lived in France. Her parents

had a terrible time with her as she was forever hearing voices which she said told her to put onmens clothing and go help save France for the King. They took Joan many times to the local

healer who fed her herb teas and said spells over her, but to no avail. Joan persisted in herobsession. Finally her parents gave up in disgust and givjng Joan a horse and some of her

brothers clothing told her never to darken their doorstep again. Crazy girl.

Joan, finally freed of dull village life,set off joyfully to join her King who was having a

really difficult time trying to convince his enemies that he had squatters rights to the throne.

On her way, Joan stopped at many villages and spent the night as a guest in many homes.Most of the men were shocked at her appearance, but tolerantly listened to her tale, taking her for

just another crazy woman who didnt know her rightful place. The women paid rapt attention to

her and many envied her freedom and thought that it might be nice to travel around France fancyfree. Each morning as Joan left the villages, she was followed by a growing number of women

who had stolen their husbands clothing and horses and decided to opt for a life of adventure. By

the time Joan joined the King, she was equipped with a sizeable army herself.

Things weren't going very well with the war and it had reached a stalemate with neitherside gaining or losing very much. The men on both sides were tired and hungry, mostly hungry,

as everyone knows what army rations taste like.

Joan decided that these silly men were too stubborn to call a truce and as she really had

no taste for bloodshed, decided on a brilliant scheme. When evening came and luck being on her

side, with the wind blowing towards the enemy, Joan instructed her women to start cookingsome of the good food they had brought with them. Of course the delicious smells drifted

quickly over to the enemies noses and before you could say bon appetite, the enemy soldiers

were rushing over to the other side. Now with all the soldiers on the same side there couldhardly be a war, could there, and the King managed to keep the throne. Of course, being the

ungrateful wretch that he was, he took all the credit, even trying to make Joan out as a witch and

suggesting she be burned at the stake. The women of Joans army, however, would have none ofthat business, thank you sir, and let the King know in no uncertain terms that what had been

given could also be taken away. If the King persisted in his folly they would refuse to cook for

his armies any longer and he possibly would end up burning right along with Joan. The King

decided, rather prudently, that he would stop hasseling Joan, and instead, granted her wish to beset up in a nice little cooking school in Paris, which in no time at all was to become world

famous. Contrary to conflicting reports, Joan did not burn at the stake but went up in flames

trying to teach a clumsy young chef to make cherries flamb.


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Class A504 B Humorous Reading, Grades 11 and 12

MY FINANCIAL CAREER Stephen Leacock

When I go into a bank I get rattled. The clerks rattle me; the wickets rattle me;

the sight of the money rattles me; everything rattles me.

The moment I cross the threshold of a bank and attempt to transact business there,

I become an irresponsible idiot.

I knew this beforehand, but my salary had been raised to fifty dollars a month and

I felt that the bank was the only place for it.

So I shambled in and looked timidly round at the clerks. I had an idea that a

person about to open an account must needs consult the manager.

I went up to a wicket marked Accountant. The accountant was a tall, cool

devil. The very sight of him rattled me. My voice was sepulchral.

Can I see the manager ? I said, and added solemnly, alone. I dont know why

I said alone.

Certainly, said the accountant, and fetched him.

The manager was a grave, calm man. I held my fifty-six dollars clutched in acrumpled ball in my pocket.

Are you the manager? I said. God knows I didnt doubt it.

Yes, he said.

Can I see you, I asked, alone? I didnt want to say alone again, but without

it the thing seemed self-evident.

The manager looked at me in some alarm. He felt that I had an awful secret to

reveal.

Come in here, he said, and led the way to a private room. He turned the key in

the lock.

We are safe from interruption here, he said; sit down.

We both sat down and looked at each other. I found no voice to speak.

You are one of Pinkertons men, I presume, he said.

He had gathered from my mysterious manner that I was a detective. I knew whathe was thinking, and it made me worse.

No, not from Pinkertons, I said, seeming to imply that I came from a rival

agency. .

To tell the truth, I went on, as if I had been prompted to lie about it, I am not a

detective at all. I have come to open an account. I intend to keep all my money in this

bank.



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Class A 504 B Continued

The manager looked relieved but still serious; he concluded now that I was a son

of Baron Rothschild or a young Gould.

A large account, I suppose, he said.

Fairly large, I whispered, I propose to deposit fifty-six dollars now and fiftydollars a month regularly.

The manager got up and opened the door. He called to the accountant.

Mr. Montgomery, he said unkindly loud, this gentleman is opening an account;

he will deposit fifty-six dollars. Good morning.

I rose.

A big iron door stood open at the side of the room.

Good morning, I said, and stepped into the safe.

Come out, said the manager coldly, and showed me the other way.

I went up to the accountants wicket and poked the ball of money at him with a

quick convulsive movement as if I were doing a conjuring trick.

My face was ghastly pale.

Here, I said, deposit it. The tone of the words seemed to mean, Let us do

this painful thing while the fit is on us.

He took the money and gave it to another clerk.

H

for speech

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